


purple bruises a whisper away

by iooiu



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demon Killua, Fluff and Humor, Gen, I have no idea why i wrote this, Planning Adventures, Vampire Kurapika, Werewolf Leorio, actually i do, and women, bless mito i mention her because i love her, fuck ging like lol, gon will pick up all his friends when they're feeling down like physically up u go, i wanted to see gon in a big floppy witch hat and it spiraled from there, idiots to friends who are idiots together, listen LISTEN i don't make the rules all the zoldycks are taLL it's in their genes, mage gon, my indulgence for magic hats got the better of me, no beta we die like men, or in this case planning to break a not-curse, please, please don't read this, slight angst ig
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iooiu/pseuds/iooiu
Summary: Gon can cross many things off his 'to-do' list. Biking down a cliffside? Check. Swimming with whales? Check. Getting caught in a seemingly unbreakable not-curse? Unfortunately, check.Accidentally summing a demon to help him break said unbreakable curse? Well... check?(He had never been good at long term planning anyway.)
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs & Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44





	purple bruises a whisper away

**Author's Note:**

> ahha, hi there, first off.

The powder in his pouch was emptying at an alarming rate, and he wondered if he had used too much at the beginning of the sequence. No, the shop keeper had said to be generous with the amount, and now that he glanced at the other end of the circle, he noticed he was closer to completing it than he originally thought.

The wind fluttered the leaves overhead, the trees lining his small surrounding shielding him and his circle, effectively ceasing all motion within the still space. Gon shuffled against the grass he had spent time flattening with his boots, spreading the white sand-like substance into the correct shapes and curves, feeling the soft gritty texture brush against his palm and fall onto the ground in an inaudible flow, like an open hourglass.

He counted his last footsteps, happily connecting the first letter with the last brush of white and bouncing back soundlessly, grinning giddily at his complete circle. He did it, after a painstaking amount of time and research (read; running around begging every shopkeeper and mage in the area), he’d finally finish off what he started a month prior. 

He settled his small bag and staff against the furthest tree, patting the long stick fondly because he really wouldn't have made it this far without it. He looked up to the sky, seeing hints of orange streaking against the sky and painting it with watercolor hues. It wasn’t too late, and the shopkeeper had told him that he would be exhausted to the point of collapse once he finished, so it was probably for the best that he fell asleep close to his normal time anyway.

Situating himself on the outside of the circle and tracing his eyes over the symbols gracing the flat grass, Gon nodded to himself, going over the sequence once more in his head. He could feel the conflicting energy in his chest, but he knew his own nature too well, knew the familiar warmth swirling within his veins better than the cold tendrils lingering beneath his skin. All he had to do was separate them, even if it was just for a fraction of a second. That’s all it would take to activate the circle, and the rest would dwindle from there.

He clasped his hands together, fingers pointed up and palms creating a small space between them. He pursed his lips, eyelids falling shut as he dove deep into his mind, trying to grasp at the wisps of his own energy. It churned, hot and needy just beyond his reach, encased in an unnatural weight. 

Just a bit further. 

He felt something warm flicker by his knee.

Just a little more.

It bloomed, washing over his face like the watercolor orange in the sky.

Got it!

Without a second's hesitation, he pushed the pads of his fingers into the grass, the powder coating his skin as he forced the hot hot hot essence down down down into the grass, into the circle, into  _ breaking this damn curse-- _

He felt it before he saw it. Hot air blew up in his face, all at once and without warning, searing the skin on his cheeks and forehead and nose and mouth. It seared his nerves, though he couldn’t feel anything but a numbing wind buffeting his frame. Distantly he saw the trees around him dance violently, back and forth and back and forth.

He retracted his hands from the ground to hold them before his eyes, squinting through the bellows of his cloak to try and see past the intense wave of heat. It forced his eyes to prickle painfully, watering against the torrent of force before him. The grass he had flattened flew around in a flurry, and he off-handedly mourned for his hard work because it had taken him ages to make sure the ground had been even. 

He caught the glimpse of roaring waves of steam twisting up into the sky before a gust of hot air pushed him off his feet, tossing him gracelessly into the ground as if he was nothing more than a ragdoll in the hands of a child. Something beside his ear snapped loudly, the sound ricocheting off his brain and around his skull like a ringing echo that wouldn’t stop. His vision turned, blurred and blackened as he tried to make sense of why the world was turning _ so damn fast _ . He felt his body hit the ground with an inaudible thud, only to leave again over his head as if he was a leaf stuck in an endless current. 

Gon shot his arms out to reach for something,  _ anything  _ to hold him in place so he could see what the hell was happening, fingers scraping over grass and dirt and whatever else he could find purchase with. He felt the world tilt, and suddenly he was looking at the sky and the watercolor orange that melted alongside the steam rolling up from his circle.

Right, the circle!

Distantly Gon felt his body collide with something more solid and stationary than him, and he mustered enough energy to peel an eye open, struggling to make out anything more than a vast twister of smoke and steam and  _ fire  _ swirling up and up and up into the cloudless sky.

When he tried to blink against the onslaught of dirt and sand caught in his eyes, he found himself unable to reopen them.

. .

The first thing he was aware of was the fact that it was suffocatingly warm around him, reminding him of the fogs he would encounter travelling through swamp country. Stifling air that was too heavy for his lungs, and made his throat constrict against his will. The next thing that came soon after was the registering of sweltering hot feeling of something pressing between his eyes and along the bridge of his nose. He tried swallowing back the sand coating his tongue, grimacing against the grating feeling travelling down his mouth.

He made a mental note to never try to eat sand again.

Making a whining noise from the back of his throat seemed acceptable for now.

After contemplating whether or not he wanted to open his eyes and face the consequences of his most recent failure, Gon slowly peeled his eyes open, a choked gasp of surprise escaping his burning mouth when he was met with two large blue eyes inches from his face.

The eyes quickly backed up, and Gon fought back the fuzzy black clouds filtering at the edge of his vision. He blinked, clarifying his sight enough to see that yes, there was someone above him and that yes, his face hurt a lot.

He clenched his jaw tight as he pulled himself upright enough to sit, legs splayed in front of him. Nothing  _ looked  _ damaged or out of the ordinary, and he was sure he would’ve felt something by now if anything was broken. Gon wiggled his toes from within his (now dirty) boots, sighing through the grit coating his teeth in relief. Broken bones were always a pain to deal with.

His eyes were then drawn to the sheer amount of clutter littering his once clean and pristine clearing. Twigs and branches lay crooked and bent along the upturned earth, piles of leaves swept hazardously around in the aftermath of raging winds. His circle was nowhere to be seen either, but on the other side of the area he spotted his bag and staff safely laying between the roots of a now tilting tree, untouched but for the dirt that seemed to have flown everywhere.

Gon trailed his gaze over the destruction, once again landing on the boy who was now picking at his sweater beside him, apparently waiting for his brain to be caught up.

Okay brain, mission number one; start catching up.

Try as he might, he couldn't recognise the boy, whose hair was a pristine white and undeterred by the seeming rampage that had occurred. Pale, unblemished skin shone in the thin trail of moonlight (since when had the sun set?) and blue eyes shone unnaturally in the wispy grey darkness.

“Where did you come from?” Gon asked when he finally managed to swallow down most of the hard grit and bile that seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth. His voice still sounded like a sick rasp, but he counted it as a victory that he was able to speak at all.

He could check his neck off as undamaged on his list.

The boy tilted his head, eyes narrowing in an emotion Gon couldn’t read, or maybe it was just the way his vision was still trying to reorient itself. Either way, the other boy leaned forward and peered curiously into Gon’s eyes with his own, lips turned down into a frown on his porcelain face.

“Did you really hit your head  _ that  _ hard?” He asked. Had he? He couldn’t tell, with the ringing still bouncing against his skull. “I’m from the Underworld,  _ obviously _ .”

Right, obviously. Gon squinted his eyes to finally take in the boy's entire structure. There was a pair of sharp twisting horns atop his head, the base half hidden by those fluffy-looking white tufts of hair. Large draconic wings folded neatly against the ground, and now that he was paying attention, he could make out the thin pointed tail curled around his legs too. 

Oh.

“You’re a demon.”

“Obviously.”

“Right, obviously.” So, the real question was; “What are you doing here? Did someone summon you?”

Because that was the only reason he could think of, for this demon to have materialized out of nowhere. Gon had made sure that his surroundings had been clear of people, but maybe he had been too careless? It wouldn't be the first time he overlooked small details. It definitely wouldn't surprise him to know that someone else had started a summoning circle near him without his notice.

The demon tilted his head again, brows furrowing and breaking his marble skin with a small wrinkle in his forehead. His frown deepened, and Gon caught the sight of sharp teeth between thin colorless lips.

“Wait, so you’re  _ not  _ the one who summoned me?”

“Uhm, no? I’m pretty sure I’m not anyway. I was trying to break a curse, not summon a demon.” He explained factually, gesturing to the other boy with a small flick of his wrist.

“Huh, that’s weird.” The demon hummed, eyeing Gon’s face for  _ something.  _ Apparently he didn’t find it, because he sighed and unfolded himself with long legs, clawed feet gripping the ground as he got up. He picked off the last small twig from his sweater, pocketing his hands into his sweatpants and glancing around. “Well, I’m sure whoever summoned me is around here somewhere.”

Gon hummed in agreement, already scanning the nearby forest for some other being who happened to have summoned this demon while he was breaking his curse. Maybe that’s why everything went haywire? When conflicting magic sources clashed, there was bound to be some sort of repercussion for carelessness. This time it seemed to have been in the form of a big  _ boom. _

“Will you be okay?” The demon turned to him, nodding to something on his face that Gon couldn’t see but could explicitly feel. It was definitely a large bruise, but he could rule out a broken nose. This didn’t hurt nearly as much.

“Yeah! I’ll be fine.” Gon reassured, managing a grin and a thumbs up to show just how  _ okay  _ and  _ good to go  _ he was. The demon huffed a laugh and turned around to start walking through the path of destruction, long thin tail slightly swaying from side to side as he made his way forward. Out of habit Gon lifted an arm to wave, but found a heavy weight settled against his collarbone, right at the base of his throat. He tried swallowing again, thinking it was a glob of dirt, but it didn’t do anything. It was almost intangible, this mystery force pushing back against vocal chords.

He pressed his fingers (which were coated with numb blisters) against the small space of vacuum space beneath his skin, but found nothing but clear expanse of his warm flesh. Weird.

He twisted around to survey the rest of limbs, finding nothing worse than burns and bruises and blisters littering the exposed skin that his robes didn’t cover. In his terms; manageable and non-threatening, but a total inconvenience to move around with. Pushing himself up from his knees, Gon flicked his hat up to see that it was indeed night time, and that the half moon shone brightly enough to inform him that he was moving again.

Wait.

What.

Gon dug his toes into the ground, trying to stop his body from flying forward, being pulled by this now overwhelming force of  _ something  _ far stronger than him. He squealed, unable to stop his momentum enough to warn the demon now across the clearing and being drawn nearer at an alarming rate that they were bound for collision within a few short seconds. Instead he braced for impact; eyes tightly screwed shut and teeth clenched together.

He heard it before he felt it, but when he heard it it was  _ loud _ . Enough to silence the echoing ring in his ears. The large bruise he knew was blossoming across his nose bridge flared once again when he connected face-first with the demon’s back, tripping over his large wings and dragging them both down, toppling over one another. 

When they finally managed to fall in an unglorified heap of tangled limbs and dirt and anything else that was kicked up during the commotion, Gon realized that the little shock of electricity that erupted through his lip had been the action of him biting it. Hard. And the tangy taste of blood flowing into his mouth and below his tongue were the product of such a bite. He couldn’t fathom why vampires liked this taste, it was  _ disgusting. _

“What the fuck?” The demon below him coughed, having had his spine pummelled by Gon’s head. He spit a glob of wet grass and whatever else he managed to swallow when he had landed, turning to glare at him. “Watch where you’re going!”

Gon would have responded had he not been too busy cradling his stinging cheeks in an effort to relinquish some of the thundering pain in his nose. All he offered was a series of soft repetitive ‘ow’s that streamed from his mouth without thought, because really, it was the only emotion Gon could manage to display at the moment. 

In fact, he was so preoccupied with his current misery, that he did not register the way the demon before him glanced down suddenly, hooked claws that would normally give way to fingers on any other person gingerly touching his neck, or the way he glanced up speculatively as Gon tenderly rubbed at his nose. He did, however, register when the demon shifted and got back up, throwing a hand in Gon’s direction in silent support, to which he happily accepted as was pulled up to stand as well.

“Well,” the other started, resting his hands in his (now dirt-covered) pants while he shifted his weight to one leg, “seems like you’re definitely the one who summoned me.”

Gon squinted up at the boy in confusion. Had he not heard him the first time? “I wasn’t summoning a demon. You need an  _ intention  _ for that, anyway.”

“Magic doesn’t lie.” The demon stated back, drawing up a clawed hand to point at his pale neck with one of the hooked digits. “My bind’s saying that you’re the one who summoned me.”

Gon looked up, indeed seeing the intricate black symbols that resemble those that he had written on the ground with his white sand as part of his spell. The same symbols were now neatly written over ivory skin with black ink that seemed to glow like dying embers locked away in draconic twists and twirls; the language of demons, he supposes.

“How do you know that?” Gon aske, intrigued. He’s never summoned a demon before, nor has he witnessed a summoning. The descriptions he received seemed to have been slightly exaggerated, as the boy before him wasn’t eight feet tall nor did he have several pairs of yellow goat eyes or multiple extra limbs. He was pretty normal, equipped with the typical wings and such. 

“In simple terms, it’ll warm up when I’m near the summoner.”

“Does it hurt? Will it kill you?”

“What? No. This whole binding idea would be pretty fucking stupid if it killed me.” The demon gave him a quizzical look, which he easily dismissed in favor of peering at  _ his _ writing being scrawled onto the other’s neck, sort of like an engraved collar or piece of jewelry. “Anyway, tell me your intention, and I’ll complete it.”

Oh. Right.

Demon summonings weren’t a common practice for a reason. They required a lot of raw energy, for one thing, and if that wasn’t available then refined magic would be a necessity. Seeing as magic was out of the option for him, his large reservoir of energy would have to do. The second was being able to input such a large quantity of said energy into the spell circle, which required a massive storage of energy just to activate, let alone pull and bind a demon. To top it all off, the summoner needed a strong enough intention to lure out a demon from the Underworld long enough to snatch it up with a bind, though what the intention was differed between people. 

Revenge, greed, thirst for power; these desires could boil down further into stronger base emotions like anger and grief. If someone had enough of that in their minds, then summoning a demon wouldn’t be too hard.

But Gon hadn’t even  _ intended  _ to summon a demon, let alone bind one. He didn’t have a strong intention, if he had had one at all, and he doubted his tainted energy was enough to activate a circle he  _ clearly  _ made for breaking a curse. Though summoning circles and curse-related sequences shared the same symbols, so Gon could see the basic mishap. 

At the end of the day, though, Gon hadn’t had a strong intention, and he planned on making this demon see it as such.

“I didn’t have an intention, so it wouldn’t have been possible for me to summon you.” Gon explained, pointing out the obvious outlying factor.

“Again, magic doesn’t lie.” The demon responded, sounding peeved. “Now, tell me what was on your mind when you activated the circle.”

What was on his mind? Well, obviously it was something along the lines of  _ begone you nasty curse, and good _ riddance _. _

But in the back of his mind he knew that wasn’t true. Knew that deep down there were two large, hollow eyes staring him down as a wide crooked smile broke between stretch and torn skin, revealing layers and layers of teeth as long as his arms. Claws that reached reached reached, the echoing sound of something snapping loudly in his ears and the sight of red pooling in his lap. Blurry lines and distant voices and his forehead pressed to the ground as he screamed and screamed until he was sure his vocal chords were shredded--

He shivered involuntarily, a small little quiver of the shoulders from a cold chill sweeping up his spine that could easily be misinterpreted as his cloaks’s fluttering. Something that came and went as quick as a heartbeat and something that would be lost to the winds.

So, what had he been thinking about?

“I already told you,” Gon chuckled lightly, because this demon really was more human-like than he had been told, and he would have thought this entire scenario as nothing more than a fantasy had someone told him of these events a few months ago. “I was trying to break a curse.”

“A curse, hm?” The demon hummed, rolling his shoulder and earning several cracks from the bones along his neck. He flexed his clawed-fingers, brandishing them out in front of him as he widened his stance, large leather-textured wings flapping lightly against the sudden charge in the air. “That’s it? Well, this’ll be over in no time.”

Gon watched, mesmerized at the display of such refined magic so different from his own nature, watching static crawl up the boy’s arms and dance around his skin like figure skaters gliding along the ice. His eyes lit up a brilliant blue, and his hair swayed in the sudden motion of hot air surrounding his body.

“Hold still, yeah?” The demon instructed, though Gon couldn’t help but think that he wouldn't have been able to move even if he wanted to. He tasted electricity on his tongue, mixing with the iron left behind by his split lip. His blood sang with the exposure to this magic; magic that he had been deprived of for close to two years now, and he yearned to reach out and hold onto some of these sparks, some of this power that he would do anything to have control over again.

“Here, give me your hand.” And then there was a clawed appendage being held towards him, lit up with endless bursts of sparks that resembled the stars twinkling above. 

And Gon reached forward with a trembling hand of his own, fingers inching toward his chance at finally getting his magic back. Finally being able to feel the wisps of life dancing around him that made his chest flutter like the wings of a bird, unlimited and unbound.

He reached, and then there was black, and then he was staring into bright blue eyes.

Those same eyes that slightly resembled the shopkeeper he had bought his sand from, though these ones were much brighter and held a certain glint of  _ something.  _ The women owning the shop had been kind, and had even given him a discount for all his previous visits. What had she said before, as a warning? After ringing up his total and handing him his pouch, she had advised him to proceed his spell with caution.

_ “Do be careful with this." _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Oh, just that magic that needs this kind of substance as a base is normally highly energy consuming. I wouldn’t put it past you if you collapsed during the whole thing.” _

_ “Really? Oh wow, I didn’t even know.” _

_ “As long as it’s not a summon or anything, though! Normally you just pass out as a light slumber, a little after your spell is done, so you should be fine.  _

_ "But, I’ve heard of full grown mages falling into a coma after going through sequences with this stuff.” _

_ “You don’t have to worry, ma’am. People say I gotta’ lot of energy stored.” A cheeky pat on his chest. _

_ “Well, just keep this mind, will you?” _

_ “Of course.” _

Of course. He was such an idiot sometimes. There was a reason he was completing this whole ordeal at dusk. How could he have forgotten. He knew, and he had prepared for it on word of the shopkeeper. Packed a sleeping roll and food supplies (granola bars) to last two days within his bag because he wanted to be extra cautious.

The world around him was spinning at an alarming rate, and colors were smudging together in the moonlight darkness around him. The world was doing that a lot lately, spinning out of control before him until he couldn’t register which direction was up.

His ears seemed to have been stuffed with cotton, and even though the demon’s mouth was moving, saying something that he should probably be listening to because  _ he was about to get rid of Gon’s curse, right? _ He couldn't register what he was talking about. Those little lightning strikes were bouncing in his vision, or were those the stars streaking across the sky?

He couldn’t tell, couldn’t tell between right and left and the reason why everything was spinning faster faster faster than he could understand it, trying to get it under control. He let out a strangled whine, something akin to the angry penguins he’s seen on TV once. Digging (what he thought was) the heels of his boots into the upturned Earth, Gon tried to steel himself and his rolling stomach, hoping sheer will alone would stop the force of the oncoming nausea.

The world spun, slowed, blurred, grew hot around his ears while his nose felt cold and  _ ached  _ as his eyes watered and his bones were slowly replaced with copper wires. He shook his head to try and clear the clutter behind his eyes, tried to concentrate on the blades of grass that he had previously taken great care to flatten. Were they getting larger? Darker? His internal axis felt tilted, uneven, like he was falling, but he didn’t feel it. He felt like he was being flung around by the hands of…

Oh no, yeah, he was falling.

. . .

Killua hadn’t known what to expect when he had been summoned. He never did, to be honest, because each summoner was always a stark contrast from the previous one. One would be a large man with raging eyes as he frothed at the mouth with the prospect of using  _ such a powerful entity  _ for his sinister revenge plan. The next would be watering the soil below with ungated floods of tears as she mourned the loss of a child she hoped he could bring back to life.

Far from similar, but there was one trait that all his summoners shared; powerful magic.

Well, that was to be expected, seeing as he was a one-bar demon, the highest class of his kind and the one with unrivalled strength. Summoning his level of demons always took either a huge storage of energy or an incredible refining of magic.

So it would be safe to assume that his summoner would be a put-together mage or witch, maybe even a werewolf tampering with something beyond their capabilities (it happened exactly one time to him, anyway). Probably another angry man in need of swift yet satisfying revenge, with the way this hot energy burning his bind to his skin was anything to go by. The intention had seemed fuzzy; he almost evaded it with how imprecise it was. But an intention it was, and soon he was feeling the familiar pull of soft nature energy so unlike his own ragged and sharp reserves. 

He let the taste linger on his tongue, felt his limbs twitch in anticipation because he’d never felt such raw and uncontrolled and  _ burning hot  _ energy before, as if the summoner on the other side was shoving the nearest star into his hands and writing their sequence with fire at their fingertips. It  _ burned so damn much  _ but he  _ loved it _ . Ached to eat up this seemingly endless explosion of power and clamp his jaws to hold the wreathing star being embedded into his veins.

He woke with a start, expecting to see what he normally saw; a circle in which he’s emerged from, an angry mage or witch, and maybe the familiar darkness of nightfall.

What he did not expect to find was a whirlwind of absolute chaos around the area, trees upturned and underbellies of roots displayed against flying dirt and grass and whatever else was in the near vicinity. He felt hot air swirl around him, charged with his magic he seemingly unconsciously leaked, and he felt his hair stand up on end. He flicked his tail irritably, because he hadn’t had an explosion like this since he was a little kid, and anyone who saw this messy display of power would scoff at him. Guess the surging energy that had pulled him was more powerful than he thought, to make him go haywire like this.

He looked around, his bind’s previous burning ache now dulling down to a warm hum, as he tried to spot his summoner through the wreckage.

And spot him he did, unconscious and laying at the base of a tree. He wasn’t dead; couldn’t be, otherwise Killua would be dead too (bind connections and such), but he clearly was not  _ okay. _ Killua sauntered over, picking away at the small leaves and grit slowly floating down and collecting on his sweater.

The first thing he noticed was that whoever was laying on the ground was… small. Okay, not small, but not as big and buff as Killua had been expecting. His hat; a huge pointed thing that seemed to have soft spikes of…  _ something  _ sticking out of what would otherwise be a smooth surface making up half the boy’s height. The rim drooped over his closed eyes, but it didn’t seem torn (magic-wielders were always so peculiar of their hats, it was kind of strange to witness how protective they could be of it).

And on his second scan of his apparent summoner, he found he wasn’t  _ actually  _ small. His cloak, which swatched his entire body like a large blanket, just gave him the appearance of someone who could easily hide themselves. A grey-green hood peaked over the edge of his garb, and Killua predicted this to be the hoodie his summoner was wearing underneath.

Well, he didn’t look very impressive, but he  _ was _ the one who practically got him drunk on his massive energy fluctuation, so he settled for pulling the boy until he was resting on his back and hovering over him until he woke up.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A handful of minutes later brought his summoner’s eyes fluttering open, squinting against the large black bruise that had painted over his skin during the short expanse of time. (it wasn’t a short expanse, he realized, glancing at the sky. It was well past midnight; he must have fallen asleep hovering over him at some point.)

The rest spiralled from there, and soon Killua found himself once again nursing an unconscious mage in the middle of a forest. He had found the boy’s bag and staff a little ways away from where they were situated, and plopped them beside the boy as he dug through his supplies. Food for a few days (just granola bars), a blanket, a fishing line? Mundane things one would take for camping, as well as a clunky phone at the bottom with its charger curled around it.

He took the blanket out and unfurled it, tucking it around the mage after some thought in case he got cold. Killua was well aware of just how much energy it took to activate a summon circle, even if it was an accidental one (how did that even  _ work _ ?), and passing out wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Normally the mages and witches who called him were well prepared though, and came equipped with the right material. This guy just seemed to be an idiot with an obsession for all-natural grain granola.

He tried prying the pointed hat off the boy’s head at some point, to ease the slight elevation of his neck, but found it actually connected to his head through his hair, and left it in case he ended up pulling his whole scalp off. His bag would have to do as a makeshift pillow.

He sifted through the numerous snacks the human brought, shamelessly digging through the expanse of granola bars until he found several chocolate ones hidden within the mass which he happily munched on. If he had to guess, he would expect the boy to wake up sometime in the next day or two, so it shouldn’t be too long of a wait, and a nap never hurt anyone either.

Except now, apparently.

By a stick to the ass.

“Oi,” Killua jolted up, grabbing the stick and swinging it in a blind arch around him. When he contacted nothing, he dropped the impromptu weapon and glanced up, eyes meeting the crouched form of his accidental summoner.

“What,” He growled, crouching down to poke the human in the cheek, “the fuck.”

“Sorry, sorry! I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making you up!” The boy replied, bouncing up on his heels and gingerly touching his blue and black nose. Killua sighed and straightened up too, eyes roaming over the now conscious and coordinated mage who had enough energy reserved to make him, a first bar demon, go crazy.

“By poking me with a stick?”

“In all honesty, I thought it would reach your wings or whatever,” he gestured to the large leathery appendages folded by his sides, “I was wrong.”

“Clearly.” Killua snorted, watching the boy laugh loudly before flinching again. He rolled his eyes, batting away his hands before cupping the other’s face, bringing it up underneath his own.

“What are you doing?” He asked, big big eyes which resembled molten amber peered up at him curiously, the rim of his sloping hat brushing Killua’s forehead.

“Hold still. I’m healing your dumb ass.”

“Oh,” The boy let out a soft sound, then quieted, keen on watching intently as Killua turned his head this way and that, inspecting the numerous smaller bruises and burns. Not bad, not bad. It’ll barely take a second to heal this.

He looked into the boy’s eyes again, squinting lightly at the painful looking colors painting over his otherwise freckled nose bridge. Ouch. One soft breath should do.

Killua blew softly, forcing the boy’s eyes to flutter shut against the offending warm air. He made sure to get all the little scabs littering his jaw and lips, breathing over the blisters and bruises until his skin was a plain of soft skin with its own little galaxy of dark freckles.

“Okay, you’re good.” Killua said, letting the boy go and smirking at him as he touched his face in astonishment.

“Woah,” He breathed deeply through his nose, grazing over where there was once a nasty blotched discoloration of purple and blue across his face. “You got all of it?”

“Pretty much. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Oh, no. Just my hands; my cloak protected the rest.”

Healing his hands took a bit longer because one of the fingers of his left hand were broken, but soon enough the mage was as good as new and even willingly giving Killau the rest of his chocolate bars. By then he noticed the moon dipping past the horizon, and he blinked in surprise because didn’t it usually take multiple days to recover from energy depletion? And yet this boy, this not-little mage managed to do it in a couple of hours. No wonder Killua went crazy; this kid held a lot of power. It would make any sensible demon drool after a simple whiff.

Killua was not a sensible demon.

“I never caught your name, summoner, unless you’d like me to call you master or something?”

The boy shook his head so fast his hat wobbled from side to side, strange pine-tree like spikes at the tip dancing like leaves as quickly shot down that idea.

“No no, nothing like that. I didn’t even mean to summon you!” The boy stuck his hand out then, like an offering. “My name’s Gon Freecs.”

“A pleasure.” Killau drawled, but clasped the human hand with his own clawed one. An awkward quiet settled between them, where neither boy moved or ungrasped their hold, until the mage -- Gon -- spoke up again. 

“Well, aren’t you gonna’ tell me  _ your  _ name?” He asked, tilting his head, and with it his hat.

Killua blinked, taken aback slightly, because summoners never really cared enough to ask for his name, let alone so politely. All that came out of their mouths were plees to ‘kill them’ or ‘bring them back’. Never his name. Never so friendly. He withdrew his claws and swept them to his chest in a mock bow, though his smile seemed too genuine to match his display. He couldn’t help it. He was feeling giddy. This development was new and quite honestly refreshing. 

“Killua.” Then after a pause, “Zoldyck.”

“Nice to meet you too, Killua.” Gon rolled the name around his tongue like candy until he swallowed and grinned, straightening up and dusting his dark cloak, propping his hoodie’s hood up and back before spinning around to grab his belongings. “So, I just accidentally summoned a demon, huh?” 

“Seems like it,” Killua pocketed his hands and followed the boy (though he didn’t really have much of a choice) as he walked around the wreckage of branches and grass and soil.

“Cool. I’ve never seen a demon before, if I’m being honest. ‘Thought you’d look a lot like a vampire.”

“So? Do I?”

Gon turned his head to access him from head to toe before shaking his head and continuing. 

“Nah, you look less scary.”

“Excuse me?” He scoffed, feeling his wings shift in agitation at being called  _ less scary  _ than a lowly  _ vampire _ .

“It’s true! They look so dead, and we all know how their eyes don’t reflect light naturally. Like those animals at night.” Gon shivers, “It’s creepy.”

Killua chuckled at that, because it wasn’t exactly a lie. Though he found that most vampires had the biggest-ass egos he had ever encountered. Topped off with sensitive inferiority complexes, he found that vampires and him didn’t really mingle all too well.

“I guess you're right, though most of them are smug pricks.”

“Really? The one I met last week was super sweet!”

“They probably just wanted an easy drink.”

Gon pouted at him before grabbing his staff out from the root of a tree and slinging the rope attached to either end around his shoulders so it lay comfortably against his shoulder blades, the bottom bouncing against his heels. Satisfied with his search, he motioned for Killua to follow before maneuvering to the edge of the clearing, picking out a thin down-trodden trail leading away from the area. Presumably from where Gon had come from.

“Say, you wanna’ explain this whole demon-thing? Because I’ve never actually seen a summoning happen before. I don’t know how this all works.” He started, keeping an eye out for the markers he left behind in aid for his returning navigation.

“Not really,” Killua laughed, ducking under an overhanging tree before continuing, “but I guess I’ll have to. I’m assuming you know next to nothing?”

“You would assume correct.”

“Okay, well, for starters, when you used your energy to activate your circle, you must have had a strong intention for a fraction of a second, even if you’re saying you didn’t have one. That split second was what drew me in, and then your energy bound me,” He indicated to the symbols on his neck that adorned his skin like a necklace made of fire embers. “The bind goes two way, so you probably have something like this on your body somewhere.”

Gon nodded, indicating he was listening.

“The bind acts as a repeller and an attraction, both. I can’t move very far away from you the same way you now can’t move away from me. But I can’t attack you with malicious intent, or else the bind will nullify my magic and you’d be left unharmed.”

“So I’m guessing the same thing applies for me?”

“Yes. Initially the whole binding idea was to prevent demons from attacking their summoners. But to implement a rule like that meant having to even out the spectrum by implementing it on the summoners end. And the solution is where we are now.

“Another important note that you should probably already know is that if someone on one end of the bind dies, the other person dies too.”

“Wait, really?” Gon gaped, and remained shocked even as Killua sullenly nodded.

“And you know that the only way I can return and the bind can be released is if either of us fulfill your initial intention.” To this Gon nodded, turning right at a large fallen oak tree.

“Okay, I think I got it,” He murmured, adjusting the messenger bag by his side. “But the only problem is that my intention isn’t very…  _ easy  _ to achieve.”

Killua cocked his head to one side, brows furrowed in confusion.

“You’re cursed, right? Don’t underestimate me, mage; a curse is fucking  _ child’s play. _ ” He snorted, but Gon was already shaking his head.

“It’s… not  _ really  _ a curse, ya’ know?” No, he did fucking  _ not _ . “It’s more of an unbalance of energy. At least, that’s what Leorio told me.”

Killua didn’t know who Leorio was, nor did he hear anything about ‘unbalanced energy’ before. But it didn’t sound fun to his pointed ears.  _ Interesting indeed,  _ but not fun.

“Okay, so how long do you think this thing will take?” He asked in a tone that would suggest he had better things to do than walk around in the Overworld following this new not-little mage with his pine-tree hat. (He didn’t.)

“That’s the thing. I haven’t found a solution yet.”

How long has he been at this?

“I’ve been looking for, almost two years now.”

Oh.

Oh  _ shit. _

He was here for the long haul, huh?

“Is there a certain time limit for these bind things?” Gon asked suddenly, as if reading his thoughts (Killua would be able to tell if he was a mind reader; by the way a prickling sensation would enter his skull like an intruding soul tinkering with his bone marrow to try and get into his brain. Gon was not a mind reader, or at least hadn’t tried to read his mind yet).

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Well, I guess you’re gonna’ be stuck with me for a while. Sorry.”

“‘S fine. I guess the whole ‘accidental summoning’ thing softens the blow a little.”

Gon choked back a giggle.

. . .

Gon’s brain was doing a terrific job trying to process what the actual  _ heck  _ was happening. He got the whole demon part, yes, and the instant healing had been neat too. But now that he realizes that, oh shit, this demon is magically bonded to his  _ collarbone _ ? That one took a little longer to accept.

Indeed, it was written right there, at the base of his neck where the dip in the jutting bones connected with his throat; a crevice in which black draconic symbols embedded themselves into his caramel skin, as if written with the hot ashes of a dead fire. He brushed his fingers over it, hands coming up unblemished, and without a registered texture for the bind. It reminded him of the dark tattoos many bartenders displayed on open forearms, only more…  _ binding. _

“Say, how does your hat-thing work?” Killua asked, slumped in the hotel’s bed. Gon took the time to properly appreciate just how cool the other was, with large bat-like wings draped over the mattress, the tips brushing the floor, while he lay his head to the side to avoid ripping the pillow with his twisted horns. He even caught a peek at his long tail curled around his ankle. Oh yeah, nothing like the rumors at  _ all _ .

“It’s nothing really. My hat just connects to my hair from those bristles,” he points out the seams sticking out from the interior cloth of his mage hat, which (when he put it on) mingled with the strands of his hair until it became one big. Thing.

“And the spiky fur-stuff at the top?”

“Just my hair too.”

“You know,” Killua brushed his long hooked claw-fingers over the surface of his pointed hat, “this thing is, like, half your height. It’s  _ huge _ .”

“It’s really not.” Gon laughed lamely, pulling his hoodie back on and relishing in the warm, if not a little worn, fabric. “And anyway, it’s a gift from my aunt, so it’s not like I chose it on purpose.”

It’s true too. Aunt Mito had hoped he would grow up to surpass Ging’s physical status (out of sheer spite too), buying him a large hat in good luck to her hopes. Gon had failed her though, barely brushing past 5’6. He tried to make up for it through his width, but even  _ that  _ had been ripped from his grasp after the whole ‘cursing’ ordeal two years back. Yet despite resembling an ambling child with his flopping mage hat that matched a deep forest green bordering on charcoal black, he kept it because if he closed his eyes hard enough it still smelled like the ocean and his aunt’s laundry detergent; a fickle lavender thing with a hint of citric cherry and something distinctly  _ home. _

And anyway, he was far from physically weak, and took determined measures in order to be able to punch just about anyone’s nose in. 

Still, the rim resembled that of a large sunhat, and the sheer height of it made him seem like a little elf from children’s story books, but he  _ liked it,  _ damn it. Since when did he care for other people’s opinion anyway? Certainly not two years ago, and certainly not now, in the eyes of a pale pale demon with blue ocean eyes and a trickling scent of static lingering along his scaly skin.

But unlike many shopkeepers and salesfolk, Killua just grinned, showing off sharp shark teeth behind his thin lips as he twirled Gon’s hat on his forefinger.

“Fair enough, and I never said it was a bad thing.”

“I’m glad. We would’ve had an issue if  _ you  _ had an issue with my hat.”

Killua laughed, his smile curving upwards like a crescent moon and pearly pointed teeth gleaming. “Don’t worry, I know just how sensitive you magic-wielders are with these kinds of things.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t be if people weren’t so  _ rude. _ ” Gon shot back, sticking out his tongue for emphasis.

“Big baby,” Killua muttered under his breath, but let out a soft laugh under his hand when Gon waved him off as if he were a child before moving to sit on his own bed parallel to his own.

“So, before anything I have to go visit Leorio. I promised him I’d check up with him by the end of this month.”

“You keep mentioning this Leorio guy. Who is he? Some uncle or something?”

“No no,” Gon laughed, settling into his pillows as he flipped open his clunky phone (now fully charged thanks to the hotel’s free outlets). “He’s a good friend. A doctor for the supernatural down in Yorknew, actually.”

“Oh, wait, lemme’ guess what he is.” Killua clutched his chin, Gon’s hat tucked to his chest in thought. Gon waited patiently, scrolling through the bus routes in their vicinity that lead to the main train station. Ah, one right there, down the block, that would leave right at sunrise. Perfect. If they woke up around five and had breakfast on the road, they’d be able to meet Leorio in Yorknew in a week. Speaking of breakfast, what would demons even eat? Killua seemed to like chocolate, but something told Gon that his diet would be a bit different from his own.

“A ghoul?” Killus finally snapped his fingers, looking at Gon for confirmation. He got none.

“Why would that be your first guess anyway?”

“Well, they got a nose for it. I heard they could tell what’s wrong with specific organs just by catching a whiff. Seems like doctor material to me.” He shrugged, tossing his hat back to him.

“True. But no, Leorio’s a werewolf.”

“Oh, I guess that could work too.”

After a small shared laugh, silence fell upon them like a heavy blanket pressed against his forehead. He glanced at Killua, side-eyeing the way he picked at his claws absent-midedly. What did you do exactly, with a demon as a companion? Gon hadn’t even  _ had  _ a travelling companion until a couple of hours ago. What to say, what to say.

Oh!

“Have you played twenty-one questions before?” Gon asked excitedly, bouncing up from his previous melting-in-the-pillows process to look at Killua, who had at some point deadpanned.

“No shit, of course I have. Living in the Underworld doesn’t mean living in the ninth-fucking-century.” He drawled, propping himself higher on the backboard of his bed.

“Good, so you wanna’ go first or should I?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still twenty-one. I’ll go.”

Gon hummed, watching in fascination as Killau’s brow disrupted the smooth marble carving features of his face, a soft wrinkle breaking through the otherwise unpetrued skin, like a ripple in a pond, or a crack in the sidewalk. His mouth tugged down as he thought, long pointed ears twitching. He was so  _ cool _ , and so unlike any other beings he’d encountered. Vampires were basically humans with dead eyes and sharp needle-like fangs, werewolves were usually brutal to deal with when they got stuck through a half-transformation, and ghouls seemed to always have a sickly sheen to their skin that gave Gon the creeps, though he disliked causing a fuss. Mages and witches were just normal humans whose energy reserves were available to tap into. Anyone could tamper with magic with enough hard-work and grueling training.

But Killua was so…  _ different.  _ Physically he appeared to be nothing like all the other supernatural beings Gon was aware of, rivalling even those merpeople who were only ever sociable when there was a festival going on. It was amazing how otherworldly Kilua was, and then he thought of how stupid that sounded becasue  _ duh,  _ he was literally from another world. Of course he would look as such.

“Right, okay. One; how old are you?”

“19! My turn; how old are  _ you _ ?” 

“Are you just going to copy all my questions?”

“Is that a question?”

“Was  _ that  _ a question?”

“Just answer my question!”

“Also 19.”

“Wait,” Gon’s draw dropped, “really?”

“Why is that so surprising?”

“I don’t know,” Gon sheepishly rubbed his nape, a grin to match, “I always thought demons were, like, thousands of years old.”

Killua laughed, thankfully, and shuffled against his pillows before responding.

“Well, you would be correct for a very few, very  _ rare  _ class of demons; the kind that can break the veil through sheer power alone and hide up here.” In your side of the world, went unsaid, and Gon’s sharp intake of air went unnoticed. “But for the most part, demons live and die like you. Actually, our life span might be a bit longer and our birth rate lower, but overall it’s relatively the same.”

“Wow. I kinda’ feel like a jerk now.”

“No worries, I still think you’re a dumbass.”

“Wait, why?” Gon gasped, trying to recall any moment in which his ‘true peak dumbass’ (according to Leorio) shone through. He had been unconscious for most of their time together (in total, a handful of hours at best), so he really couldn’t tell.

“You packed granola bars and one single bottle of water to last you several days of recovery post circle activation?” Killua recited back as if reading from a textbook. Well, he had a good point there. “On that note, did you use a healing spell or something before you started? You got back up after, like, a fuckin’ cat nap.”

This time Gon chuckled, having seen similar reactions to his regenerative energy reserves. 

“No, no magic for this one. Just the power of granola bars and water.”

“Unbelievable. Okay, my turn again?” 

“No no, I want to go since I copied your last question.”

Killua rolled his eyes but obliged with a flick of his wrist.

He thought about it, turning over questions in his head. Lifestyle? Family? Dark magic? Those demons that could break through the veil? No, that hit too close to home too early into their friendship. Were they even friends? They were magically bound, but beyond that he had no idea. He would like to think they were friends, as he was never one to let go of a good acquaintanceship. Maybe Leorio had a point when he said something about being too friendly, but then again, there was never such a thing as _ too friendly _ . But he wanted something light for this conversation, so what would it be?

“Got it! Favorite color?”

“That’s what all that thinking brought you too?”

“Just answer.”

“Hmm, probably yellow, or blue.”

“Not red or something like that?”

“How many folktales did you listen to to get your image of demons?” Killua threw a pillow at him.

“You’re turn!”

Killua huffed a snort and pondered his next question.

. . .

In the span of an hour, Killua knew more useless facts about Gon than he did about the plants his mother used to make his monthly injection of poison. He knew that Gon’s favorite color was green, he named his staff Kon, he was raised by his aunt, he didn’t have many friends, has never been bitten by a vampire, can swim faster than he can walk, can’t handle spicy food and has zero tolerance for the cold as a result of being raised on a tropical little island somewhere out in the middle of nowhere.

None of these things told Killua just how powerful of a mage Gon was, how he got his curse, who his parents were, or why he was attempting to break said mystery curse (or ‘unbalance of energy’ as Gon so vaguely put it) by himself in the middle of a forest.

“Well  _ that  _ just wasted an hour of my life and a couple brain cells.” He muttered, glancing over to see the pout he was getting used to seeing dance across Gon’s lips before he diverted his attention back to the hotel’s description pamphlet. 

“Say, what do demons normally eat?”

“Didn't we finish past twenty-one?” Killua scoffed.

“Oh, I see. So you want to starve. Fine by me.”

Gon had a strange sense of humor, it was kind of intriguing. Though to be fair, he was also the first human to ever actually acknowledge that Killua was a being with thoughts and emotions and not just some tool to be used to for mass murder. He could pull off both fronts if he wanted. But it was nice, having friendly conversation as if he’d known Gon all his life rather than having been summoned by him basically the previous nightfall. And that was being generous, seeing as Gon had been unconscious for half of it.

Yet he couldn’t deny that he wanted to stay, unlike so many other times before, he  _ wanted  _ this mission to take longer. It was basically what he’s been fantasizing about since the very first time he stepped foot onto the other side of the veil; to wander around free of constraint in a world vastly different from his own yet surprisingly similar, full of fleshy beings who bleed too easy yet have an uncanny ability to  _ empathize. _

Though his bind with Gon kind of took away the whole ‘non constrained’ part of his dream away, it was much more pleasant than being bound by his family’s rules, so he took this small shortcoming as a plus.

And Gon’s strange personality certainly helped spice things up. He wondered if all humans were as abnormal as he seemed to act.

“I can eat whatever.” He conceded, flipping through the channels of the hotel’s television; a cranky thing with static at the edges and a barely supportive connection. Killua had had to actually spark some life into it before it decided to work.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ somewhere.” Gon peered over the paper to look at him with narrowed eyes. 

“There is no ‘but’. My stomach can handle whatever.”

“You don’t have a preference?”

“Cooked meat for most demons, yeah. And chocolate, though that one’s personal.”

Gon hummed in affirmation, flapping the pamphlet shut and bounding out of the bed he was  _ this  _ close to melding with.

“Alright then. Let’s go grab something to eat.”

“As you wish,” Killua snickered when Gon threw him a dirty look from under his hat (Killua would deny the way he watched in fascination as the hat’s interior seams wove between Gon’s spiky strands of hair until it was one dense material. Mages were so  _ weird,  _ in a cool sort of way).

Gon fastened his cloak under his hood again, letting the thing flutter against his knees as he sifted through the meager contents of his wallet (it was a whale with a smiley face on it), before glancing up.

There was a pregnant pause in which Gon’s eyes travelled across his appearance while Killua held perfectly still as if being tailored for a suit. He observed as Gon’s gaze lingered on his back before withdrawing to look at Killua directly in the eye.

“Can you… change your appearance?” He asked in uncertainty, probably afraid of offending him. He’d have to do better than that though.

“Of course. Why? Don’t wanna’ be seen with someone as menacing as me?” He teased, pointing to the horns on his head that curled back at the base of his skull.

“No, it’s not that. I’m fine with how you look, but I don’t actually know how anyone else would react.” He explained bashfully, apologetic on behalf of every single soul in society. Killua appreciated the sentiment.

“I get it, don’t worry.” He waved off his worry, knowing that if Gon had been the one to cross the veil into his world, he’d have asked for the same thing. Fear of being feared wasn’t the only thing to be wary of, and demons were still beings of thought and had bodily functions; they weren’t immune to malicious magic or intent. The only thing they really  _ are _ immune to are vampire bites, and that was because they didn’t have blood to begin with. Anything else was fair game, and Killua didn’t have an extensive knowledge on Overworld beings to begin with.

How exciting.

Now, he had two ways of going about this. One would be an obvious concealing spell, but Killua didn’t think that would be enough in a world brimming with nature energy in sharp contrast to his own dark magic, so physical morphing would have to do. He kind of wanted to see Gon’s mortified expression to his gruesome changing process too.

With multiple sickening cracks, he let his bones soften, let the horns on his head twist and retract from behind his ears, which shortened and popped by his jaw. He arched his back so the large wings his family was known for wielding melted into the deep slits near his ribs, and he flexed his newly rounded fingers when he felt rather than saw those hooked claws sink into his flesh, waiting in hiding like snake fangs. His spine ached from where it merged with his tail, but he knew it would only last a few minutes. All in all, a pretty smooth transformation, if he did say so himself. He swept his tongue over his flattened teeth, glad that he still had sharp molars and fangs, so he wouldn’t be  _ completely  _ useless in a quick fight, or struggle with tearing off bites in his upcoming meal.

Killua took a peek at Gon, anticipating a wrinkled nose or possibly gagging noises, but he was more than surprised when instead he was met with shining eyes and a mouth dropped to the floor in awe.

“That was so cool Killua! How did you do that? Did it hurt? Oh wow, that was so much smoother than a werewolf turning, and it was so quiet and fast too. Man, I wish I could do that on command!”

Killua blinked, taken aback and the taunting words he had had prepared for Gon’s predicted unease died on his tongue to be met with a sweet sort of... relief? Was that what this was? Relief at being viewed as a person rather than a summoning demon made for killing? It was a nice thought, one that he couldn’t help but grin at as Gon bounced around in excitement.

“What would you transform into? A bigger idiot?” Killua laughed instead, feeling giddy and for once, free to do as he pleased. He knew Illumi had no sight here, above the veil, and his family was out of reach. He was literally free from their grasps for as long as he was bound to Gon, and from the looks of his summoner's curse, he was here to stay a while. He was fulfilling every demon's desires, and he was oh so smug about it. So, he laughed, bright and for once, happy.  _ Fuck  _ pleasentries and obligatory mannerisms when addressing your summoner, Gon was  _ his fucking age.  _ It was like having a friend.

He’s never had a friend before.

Oh, he liked this warm feeling in his chest, comparable to Gon’s energy which had pulled him up. Fuzzier and softer, but all the same welcoming. 

Damn,  _ fuck  _ the Underworld. Killua couldn’t give two shits about it right now.

“That’s so mean, Killua,” Gon laughed, and then he was slinging his bag over his shoulder and hiding Kon -- what a dumb name for a stick -- under his bedsheets.

“Won’t you want to take that? I thought witches took their shit everywhere? You guys are more possessive than Alpha’s, I swear.”

“Well  _ excuse me _ if my magic is only compatible with a  _ specific _ kind of wood.” Gon huffed, lightly punching Killua in the arm. He revelled in the light bubbly feeling he got from the gesture, because now they were on light-hearted teasing terms, and it was just  _ that  _ much closer to being friends. He could feel his mother’s seething teeth-grinding habit in his mind's eye, and he snickered. “And I can’t perform magic thanks to this curse, so there’s no point lugging Kon around.”

Killua shrugged, then frowned in realization. Was that why Gon had been using a base material for his sequence circle rather than just using magic to activate a curse-burner? Or even better, hiring someone whose specialty was removing curses? But then again, Gon had said it wasn’t a curse more than it was an unbalanced of energies (whatever the  _ fuck  _ that meant; he still needed an explantion for it if he was going to be of any use).

He was well aware of how similar nature magic was with dark magic. All of it originated from two different energies; the purest form of essence that resided in every living thing. Mages and witches were born with large reserves, which they utilized through a method known as ‘refinement’, in which they took portions of their energy and converted it into magic. It wasn’t unlike how his kind used magic, but instead of originating their power from nature energy found abundantly in the Overworld, they based their magic on dark energy (conveniently found all over the Underworld). 

It was actually how the veil between the two worlds worked, because those two base energies were incompatible, much like how oil and water were. The veil was just the repellent between the difference in abundance, which was why very few demons could actually sustain a life up above the veil; because their energy would shrivel up and die in an environment stuffed to the brim with energy that naturally repels them. 

It was also the reason why binds were so important between summoners and their demons. It kept the other end of the party alive while completing their intention.

But as far as Killua knew, Gon had never been to the Underworld (as part of his twenty-one questions turn), and so the only explanation Killua could think of for Gon’s definition of ‘unbalanced energy’ would be that someone forcefully cast dark magic into his system, enough to perfectly even out his nature energy, and effectively create a block within his refiner similar in properties to that of the veil. That would explain why he can output his raw energy but was unable to refine it into powerful magic.

But to have inputted the exact amount of dark magic to match Gon’s energy reserves to par? That would mean knowing the mages reserves inside out; their fluctuations and amount in terms of units, as well as how dense it was and how efficient his refiner worked; in other words, would have had to exist in Gon’s mind and body for a period of time to learn all these facts and be able to perform their curse.

Killua didn’t know of any demon who could do that, not even Illumi was that powerful. Not even  _ Nanika  _ could accomplish something like that, because energy reserves were always shifting and turning.

He ruled that option as impossible.

But he couldn’t think of any other explanation to understand what ‘unbalanced energy’ meant. Any form of dark magic that could be overpowered by Gon’s nature energy would be wiped clean from his system, and anything overwhelming his reserves would kill him.

Unless they used raw dark energy to even itself out to naturally accommodate his refining compatibility.

Killua shook his head and followed Gon out the door, fingers playing with a frayed seam from within his sweatpant pockets. That was also impossible. Nobody was able to utilize raw energy unless they had a base for spells, and that wouldn’t even work on a living being. 

Right?

He was tempted to open his mouth and straight up ask; as far as he could tell, Gon didn’t have a lot to hide and didn’t seem to have a practice for keeping secrets, by the way he answered each question as honestly and blatantly as he could. But Killua couldn’t think of a way to break the mage’s curse without coming up with ridiculous scenarios that weren’t even plausible.

He kept his mouth shut. He only just spent a day with the other teen, and he was bound to let up information at some point if he wanted Killua’s help. He recalled how Gon droned on and on about how long he’d spent looking for different solutions and failing one attempt after another to break his unfortunate circumstance. If he was desperate enough to ask a ghoul for help, then a demon would probably be a blessing in disguise. How ironic.

“So, any place in mind?” Killua finally asked, cocking his head to the side, unused to the feeling of having nothing to stop him from bending his head all the way back. His skull felt no less heavy, as the bone was overlapped with the melted structure of his horns, but it felt cooler near the base of his skull, and he was looking forward to being able to brush his hair without having to dodge long curved digits sticking out from behind his ears.

“I do actually! It’s a small restaurant where the supernatural mingle with humans. Co-op of sorts. ‘Thought since you look like one now, it would be better.”

He decided to refrain from saying he could pass by as a mage too, and instead walked beside him as the other navigated the streets around them.

“Isn’t that a bit strange though? I always thought humans liked to keep their distance.” Being at the bottom of the food chain didn’t help ease their thoughts either.

“Most of the time, yeah. But this town is small and everyone knows everyone. It’s no surprise that they would want to be on friendly terms.” He explained, the rim of his hat bobbing slightly with each step. Killua also refrained from batting at it like an idiot child. It was tempting though.

“I guess that makes sense.” He hummed, licking at his sore gums. Ever since he mentioned it, he’d been craving a solid crispy steak with a passion, wanting nothing more than to dig his new set of dull teeth into almost-charred (bonus points if it’s spicy) meat and lavishing in the taste.

“Don’t worry, they got plenty of meat options to choose from.” Gon assured, and Killua wondered for the second time if Gon was a mind reader or not. 

“If you’re paying, I’ll take their biggest fucking pallet.” He admitted instead, knowing he was basically the definition of broke on this side of the veil.

Gon laughed, punching him in the shoulder again. It hurt more than he'd admit, and he grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how me wanting to see large upturned pine-tree wizards hats turned into this, but it did, and here we are. this is what we get when we have no mind to fingers-on-the-keyboard filter. feel free to hit me later, i won't even say anything. you can do that on my tumblr too,


End file.
